Another Moral Hang Over
by triffickie
Summary: Rude's angsty POV and his moral hang over. Blood on the hands of an innocent man?


Another Moral Hangover  
  
by Vera Priscaleth  
  
Rating: PG13 (some cursing, angsty overall)  
  
Genre: Angst, POV  
  
Disclaimer: Turks & Rude & Shinra & Midgar [c] Squaresoft, story [c] Vera Priscaleth  
  
Summary: Rude's angsty POV and his moral hang over. Blood on the hands of an innocent man?  
  
A/N: I think I can write about Rude pretty well. I like writing his POV's. Yah, I do. This one is angsty. I was feeling upset and angry, so the words just came out. Whaddya know.  
  
* * *  
  
My hands were stained. With blood.  
  
'Hell', I thought. Was this how it was going to be, dirty hands, a guilty mind? Hide quick, under the covers. Let no one see you. I was lost inside my own head, trying to wipe the blood off. Bodies. No, not bodies. Just one body. Numb. I closed the man's eyes. He was gone now. Taken down by the man, beaten down because no one thought of a better way to silence him. Yes, silence, as if it was the biggest virtue. Virtue to the society, the man, the big shit corporation running this piece of shit place. Some didn't wish to be a part of it, but some, like me, just had to be a part of it. It was a vicious circle. Illegalities on the backround while the goverment forms new laws. Peace is not what they're after. I guess it's called dictatorship what they have here. But shush, someone might here. It's not important. What is important, is that you're alive now. Right now is everything.  
  
A strong hand, patting me in the back. "Nice work, buddy. Let's go now", the steady voice says and we walked away from the body. Oh don't worry, someone will pick it up, dump it somewhere, cover the traces. You don't have to worry about that son, you just do your work. So they said. I believed it. I gulped it down. It was rubbish. Lies, utter lies. 'Buddy' the man beside me said. Partners 'til the death takes us apart. That's the life now. But I couldn't trust this man with any of my possesions. I couldn't trust him ever. This man was just a filthy, fat liar son of a bitch. Working for the man. Like I was.  
  
Another waste of a soul was dragged in the gutter with me. The man was skinnier than I was, he might've looked weaker unless I knew all he was capable of. He was a tough one, a fighter. His scars didn't make him stop getting in danger for a decent sum of gil per month. This was, after all, just our job. What we did after working hours would not matter. But unfortunatly it did. You don't just do this as your work and go home as a different person. No, this job literally becomes you. It makes you YOU. You may not notice it, but others do. My uniform's dirty. Dark red markings all over it.  
  
"We'll wash it, don't worry", the piece of filth I should probably call my head boss, says. I don't care if it washes off. It's still there. I can wash it off, but I can never wipe the stain in my soul. I've killed a person. A man. A man who did nothing to me personally. I didn't act on impulse. I didn't act on emotion. I acted on cruelty. My puls was normal when I pulled the trigger. I killed, because it was my job. The man had hurt my employer. That's why he got killed. That's the only reason he got killed.  
  
"What is it? You feeling sad?" the filth laughs. I mumble something, but he either doesn't hear it or decides to ignore it. I mumbled 'I have no emotions anymore, didn't you know that?'. I didn't know exactly if that was true. I think I had emotions. At least the way of feeling like having a moral hangover was there. I sometimes felt joy. Joy, that came from unnatural things. Booze, drugs, anything I could get my hands on. I wasn't a junkie, hell no. But there was some emotions I had just lost, somewhere along the line. Like love. I had been in love, but nowadays I thought of it as a juvenile brain disfunction. Sounds stupid, I know. I never thought of myself very highly at that point of my pathetic excuse of a life.  
  
I'm on my feet, as I walk to my office but yet I feel like I'm crawling beneath the floor. My own sinful little place. This is not the place where I can sit down and relax. I do sit down, however. Someone knocks on the door.  
  
"Proceed" my mouth says, but my brain it numb. Let it not be the filthy bastard... Let it not be--  
  
"Hey, you filed your report yet?", my redhaired co-worker asks. My report? I hated paper work. I wasn't going to file my report. What did I have to say, anyway? I killed a man because the incorporations wanted him dead. Line break. I killed the man with two shots, two bullets that went through his chest. Line break. The man was near me, the blood spilled over my uniform. Need to wash uniform. Paragraph break. Date, signature, end. File done. I shook my head and looked down.  
  
"No, I don't feel like it", I said. My partner, my buddy, my fellow victim in this game they dared call working, nodded.  
  
"I know what you're on about. It's tough, it always is. But moral hangover isn't the way to handle it, let's go grab a pint", he said and bobbed his head to the door. Yes, alcohol. Don't you just have all the answers. I looked down. He knew my answer tonight.  
  
"Fine, the terrorists are on something anyway. We might be needed." He tried his pockets and found cigarettes and a lighter. He offered me one. I shook my head.  
  
"You're all no-no tonight. What's up?" he asked as he lit it up.  
  
"Ethical hangover" I simply stated and looked down. I know how he felt about these things. An ethical hangover was something worse than a real one to him. He had nightmares, horrible ones. He was fit for this job, sure. But no one can prepare you for the stuff you see for the first time. No one.  
  
"One beer, two beer.." he began to mock-count. I sighed, amused. Something was seriously wrong with this feller. But whatever. Then I laughed. I could've either broken into tears or laugh at the expression on his face. I chose the last option. He chuckles along.  
  
"You with me on this?" he then asks. I look back on my earlier thoughts and nod.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Alright, then let's go!" he smirks and jumps off my table. We leave the building. We head for the bar. We order the first round. The second, the third, the fourth.. Soon I'm aware of the time, the place. I don't care. I'm alive. I think.. 


End file.
